The Most Difficult Creek

The sport with the fly is a popular one these days. I long for the times when a chance meeting with fellow fly fisherman on beauty’s banks was met with celebration – a chance to exchange a story or two and, if lucky, to pawn a homemade fly in exchange for a complimentary word about its craftsmanship and allure. But these days, nearly all my lucky spots are overrun with impatient fishermen, scurrying from hole to hole, who have nary a minute to exchange a word or two. At best you’ll get a sideways glance as they throw treble hook up and down. Even those with the fly seem accustomed to using the elbow as a modern fly fisherman’s version of a can opener.